She Came to Him
by CheyF
Summary: What if it wasn't just a moment that she finally made the decision, but it happened gradually? Spoilers for Resolutions, Basics, Sacred Ground, Coda


They'd consummated their relationship only a day prior to Tuvok's call and their subsequent rescue from the planet.

It hadn't happened predictably. He'd understand if she'd come to him when she'd lost her equipment to the storm, or when he'd talked to her about his feelings.

No.

She came to him weeks later, resolute in her decision and at peace with releasing the constraints of her Starfleet life. He'd just started breakfast and she emerged from her room, clad in her robe, a big grin on her face, eyes shining.

Her arms snaked around his waist and she nestled against him from behind as he hovered over the sink. She murmured against his back, a profession of her feelings. Then he'd spun around and found himself engulfed in arms and legs as she pulled his head down to capture a kiss.

She'd established her penchant for quiet love when she'd untied her robe revealing bare skin beneath and swayed against him, touching his flesh until he pinned her to a wall, giving in to her every desire.

oOo

Before they'd had time to discuss anything, they found themselves stranded again. She'd come to him wordlessly, stumbling, lightheaded from the tarry air of the planet.

Her hair fell loosely over her dust-streaked shoulders. He'd held her tightly to him and they'd made love for the second time, his hands smoothing over sunburned cheeks, his lips muffling the contented sighs as she rocked against him. Behind the boulder, she latched her teeth onto the thick uniform at his shoulder, her body quaking as she cried, as the voices of the crew carried over to them on the flickering of the fires only meters away.

oOo

Quietly, she came to him in the dead of night, weeks later, eyes red-rimmed. He was taken aback, she'd only once slipped into his quarters and wriggled under the covers with him. He'd woken before his alarm the next morning and wrapped himself around her, lazily worshiping every inch of ivory flesh on offer.

This night, he thought she was silent because she couldn't find it in herself to admit to their relationship, if that's what it had really become. It was more a release, taken whenever they had more than a moment to themselves. They'd yet to talk about it, whatever it was.

He couldn't blame her. Much had happened in the last few days. She'd been left emotionally and physically drained, dangerously so. After she'd come back to the ship, the doctor had released her and Kes under orders to rest for 48 hours, and she'd locked herself away, even from him.

At 1am, this time, he'd awoken to her snuffling against his chest, hands tangled in his night shirt, eyes puffy.

She'd reached a turning point.

He'd been waiting patiently.

She needed to come to him, really come to him, on her own.

Perhaps questioning her spirituality in the midst of sacrificing herself to save a dear friend finally helped her realize that Kathryn needed to be cared for, just as much or more so than the captain, if they were to survive this journey home intact.

Chakotay kissed her lovingly, then held her tightly against her chest as her tears came, hiccups pattering against his skin as his shirt clung damply to him.

oOo

And then she died.

In his arms.

And she came to him, barefoot, dress swaying gently against her ankles as the sail boat rocked on the waves, the rose still in her grasp.

A miracle, if she could convince herself to believe it.

He didn't care if it was a miracle, a parasitic alien, or a nightmare.

It was over, and she lay cradled in his arms beneath the moonlight, her fingers twined with his, breathing deeply as she dozed.

Staying there for hours, he watched her and indulged her sleepy hands as they pulled him down to lay beside her.

In the early morning hours, rubbing sleep from her eyes, she led him to his quarters.

He stood at the door of his bedroom, watching her as she shuffled about cramming his clothes into a duffle and rolling his toiletries into his kit. She opened the top drawer in his closet and carefully removed the medicine bundle, handing it to him once she closed the empty closet.

Without a word, she hefted the duffle, half her size, grabbed his hand and took him to her quarters where she reversed the packing process, making space for him in her world where it hadn't been given a chance before.

His combadge, his duty, still sat beside hers stoically. His bundled spirituality next to her own, nestled in the drawer with photos and soft scarves.

All was as it should be.


End file.
